Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
She didn’t recognize the youth at all, but teetered back on her feet, gauging her crouch into a strong form again. She perused over the unfamiliar thing – completely unaware of his background, his platitudes, and everything else in between, striving to rationalize the circumstances of his confusion and turmoil. It was written plainly on his face, and amidst the Attuned bond, though Lena had no way of patching the semblances together. Instead, she breathed easily and slowly, no maelstroms, no grief, no turbulent storms in her chest, but a comforting, soothing, assuaging contemplation and tone, much like she’d use with any of the wildlife secured nearby.
The Caretaker didn’t reach for him though, with no yearning to overstep boundaries. “Okay,” she whispered, with a light smile to reflect the inner kindness. She’d start with a slower process, permitting the panic to dissipate, the grounding to begin in stutters and flutters. “Does anything hurt?”
The Caretaker didn’t reach for him though, with no yearning to overstep boundaries. “Okay,” she whispered, with a light smile to reflect the inner kindness. She’d start with a slower process, permitting the panic to dissipate, the grounding to begin in stutters and flutters. “Does anything hurt?”
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
